


This Is How We Love

by rory_the_dragon



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, F/M, Henry Pov, M/M, Multi, Peter POV, Plot Thrown In At The End, Shameless Smut, absolutely shameless
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-03
Updated: 2014-02-03
Packaged: 2018-01-11 00:27:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1166414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rory_the_dragon/pseuds/rory_the_dragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He doesn't think he'll ever be over, ever be able to fully believe, that he can have this effect on anyone, let alone the three wild creatures who took him into their bed. But then there are moments, like this, and Henry can believe it.</p>
<p>(Or: Henry has an awful day and the other three make it better.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Is How We Love

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is essentially; you can talk the talk Hatz P but can you walk the walk? So this is me, walking the walk.
> 
> Set in an AU Storybrooke. Henry's in college and living with Wendy, Peter and Felix. Very established relationship.

 

The sound of his key sliding into the lock is the greatest thing Henry’s heard all day. Until he hears the quiet off-key humming, sees Wendy tucked up underneath Felix’s arm and reading, Felix’s glasses perched on the edge of her nose, because she refuses to get her own and Felix will always lend her his. At the sight of the two of them, both absorbed in their reading and unaware of him, some of the tension in shoulders eases as he closes the front door behind him, shutting out the world once more.

He leans back against the door, closes his eyes.

There has been a scream lodged under his chin since the first course of his and his moms’ weekly Family Dinner and he lets it go as a deep sigh instead.

"Henry?" He hears, opens his eyes to Wendy looking up, face concerned and expression hardening as she takes him in, the taut lines of him like a bow. She softens, stands and crosses the room to him. Henry falls into her arms, breathing in the gentle soap and perfume scent of her. "That bad, huh?" She asks, and her voice is quiet.

He nods into her neck and her arms tighten around him, one hand moving to card whispers through his hair as she presses a series of small close-mouthed kisses to his neck, soft and tactile as ever, until Henry pulls back and rests their foreheads together. He’s the barest half an inch taller than her, never having really grown _tall_ , each other the only one they don’t have to reach and stretch to kiss.

Wendy takes his hands and pulls him away from the door. With every step Henry feels more at home in this place they’ve only had for three months now than the house he grew up in, Wendy’s hands on his, and Felix lounging across their honestly-too-small couch, eyes fixed on Henry.

There was a time when Felix’s stare was the most intimidating thing Henry had ever experienced being on the other end of, all of Felix’s keen focus and attention etching into him, assessing and cautious. Now, it’s a comfort, because now Henry can read the concern in Felix’s face, mirrored from Wendy’s, can see the fierce blaze of _Felix_ in his hooded eyes.

He doesn’t know how he ever missed it, in the beginning.

Felix’s arms are steadying around him. Where Wendy is soft, Felix is solid and Henry curls into him, Wendy curving up behind him, as if she can shield him from the world, which he knows they all try to do, really. He doesn’t always appreciate it, because he may not be fire and rage like they can be, but he isn’t weak. But right now? Right now he just lays his head on Felix’s shoulder, feels the soft press of Felix’s lips to his hair, and… _calms_.

It had been a mess of a fight. On a good day, his moms can be civil, friendly almost. On a bad day, they’re cracking at the seams with barbed words and pointed comments.

Today was an _awful_ day.

Henry counts his lucky stars that he got out of there before any china was thrown.

He _hates_ it. He loves both his moms beyond words, but they’re so difficult to be around when they’re together. But the weekly meals were Henry’s idea, to at least attempt to heal old wounds, which means he has to stick them out, even when they go so festeringly wrong that Henry wants to throw something himself.

It takes him a while of sorting through his swirling thoughts before he can hear the quiet muttering, a soothing lilt against the shell of his ear, Wendy’s voice a hum that solidifies into a litany of _it’s okay, we love you, it’s okay_. Felix doesn’t say anything, Felix so rarely does, but he’s nodding minutely along with her, cheek brushing across Henry’s hair, and it swells up in Henry’s chest until he shudders just how lucky he is to have met Wendy freshman year, that she, Peter and Felix saw something in him worth holding onto.

He must fall asleep along the way, rocked into unconsciousness by the warmth of their bodies, because he opens his eyes to fingertips on his chin, tipping his head back until he’s looking into the startling green of Peter’s eyes.

"What happened, love?" There’s an edge in Peter’s expression, hard lines and sharp eyes against the gentle touch of his hands, the softness of his voice, the kind that Peter’s never tried to hide from Henry, wild and fierce. In the face of it, Henry feels warm.

He shakes his head, not wanting to talk. Peter will find out later.

And Peter gets it, mouth an unhappy line before he banishes it, leans in and presses his lips to Henry’s, soft but firm, and Henry rises up to meet it, _needing_ it. Peter chuckles into his mouth, presses a hand against his cheek and holds him, tilts his head until his mouth opens and Peter can lick his way inside

Peter kisses like he's dying, has ever since the first time he caught Henry’s mouth, and it rushes straight to Henry’s head. Wendy’s teeth are scraping across his neck, drawing the blood to the surface, and Felix is mouthing gentle at his nape, tongue flicking against his skin, and Henry feels himself fall apart in three different directions.

Wendy’s hand on his cheek turns him, breaks him away from Peter’s tongue, and Peter growls until Wendy bites into Henry’s lips, off-angle and sloppy until it isn’t. Wendy kisses like she’s got something to prove, like she has to take Henry apart, pull him apart at the seams like she wants him to be unravelled, and Henry moves into it, lets Wendy taste Peter on his tongue, feels Peter move his attentions to Henry’s throat, Felix still at his neck.

Then Wendy passes him off, breaking away with a small noise and Henry’s searching for Felix before he even turns his head, reaching as Felix ducks down and kisses him deeply, steadily. Felix kisses Henry like he’s something precious, something to be cared for.

Henry’s long past worrying about being compared to the others, long since past his terror that they’d realise what a mistake they made with him, but he sometimes still wonders what they think when they’re kissing him.

“Come on,” Wendy says, pressing up against Henry’s back and kissing the sensitive skin behind his ear. “ _Bedroom_.” And Henry’s being hitched up, legs circling Felix’s thin hips out of instinct as Felix carries him, pressing open mouth kisses to Henry’s throat even as they move. Wendy and Peter follow, padding behind as Felix sets Henry down on the edge of the bed he custom-built for the four of them. Henry feels tiny on it, all alone.

It doesn’t last long.

Peter takes point, straddling Henry hips and ducking to kiss him, and when Henry arches up, hands tangling into Peter’s hair and pulling, he feels Peter laugh into his mouth.

“Ah, ah,” Peter mutters, grinning and swaying back out of Henry’s reach. “ _Be good_.”

Henry doesn’t pout, stays still under Peter as Peter moves to unbutton his shirt and push it off his shoulders, dips to taste his chest. He tips his head back and Wendy crawls closer to take advantage of his exposed neck, suck the beginnings of her constellation of bruises into him, and behind him Felix’s hands run up and down his back, followed by his mouth, his teeth.

Henry’s every nerve is singing, electric.

“I don’t care what happened,” Peter whispers, harsh, rising up to push it into Henry’s mouth, and it’s a _lie_ , it’s such a lie, Peter doesn’t take well to people messing with his things. “But you are so loved. You are _ours_. Don’t forget that.”

And how can he? When he’s surrounded by three of the people he loves most in the world, overwhelmed?

Peter undoes Henry’s buckle, the snap of his jeans, and slides a hand inside before Henry can even brace for it, grips him tight enough that Henry can’t stop the whine that builds in his throat. He feels Wendy’s grin against his neck, knows she likes it when he’s loud, uncontrolled. Wild like they’re always telling him he is.

Like this, Henry can believe it.

Peter strokes him, once, twice, hand warm and dry and slow, a maddening drag into full hardness until he withdraws. “Felix," He says, and Henry can't stop the sound he makes, knowing.

Peter rolls off Henry, taking the chance to pull his own shirt off his head and settle beside Wendy on the bed as Felix circles, stands before Henry, looks down at him, _asking_. Henry nods frantically, aching, and Felix smiles, pleased in the way he always is, as if he expects Henry to say no every time and Henry keeps surprising him.

Wendy’s stripped down to her underwear in Henry’s _thorough_ preoccupation, all turquoise lace frills and bows, and she leans against Peter’s side, his arm slipping around her to absently stroke at her side as they all three watch Felix as he dips his head lower and lower, broad hands sliding Henry’s jeans down and off him, leg by leg, painfully slow, so Henry can feel every rub of denim across his cock.

Felix hooks his fingers into Henry’s boxers, thumbs sweeping over to ghost over Henry’s hips, and Henry could die like this, humming with need, but then Felix is pulling the material away, cold air hitting him before it’s replaced with Felix’s breath, hot.

Henry’s hips _hitch_ up into it, but Felix isn’t touching him, _teasing_ , mouthing wetly across his thighs, sucking deep and hard into the flesh until the skin starts to bruise, and Henry will be feeling those for weeks, every time his legs brush together. Felix knows how to keep nerve-endings dancing for days after, thrives on it, and Henry is his favourite canvas.

He can hear Wendy’s moaning behind him as Felix noses at Henry’s cock, Peter’s heavy breathing, but can’t focus on the sounds because in that moment Felix _dives_ onto him, swallowing him down in one, and Henry’s shouting, head thrown back and hands clenching in the sheets as Felix flattens his tongue along the underside and hollows his cheeks, mouth warm and wet.

His spine arches as Felix drags his mouth off, and he feels Wendy press against him, push his head back so he’s looking down as Felix lets Henry’s cock fall out of his reddened lips with a filthy _pop_.

“Look at him,” Wendy whispers in his ear, bites down on his lobe. And Henry can only nod, a quick snap of his head as Felix looks up at them through pale lashes and doesn’t break eye contact as he slides back onto Henry, so fucking slowly that Henry’s fucking _bones_ are alight, humming in pleasure so it vibrates around him and-

and then Peter’s voice comes through, muffled like Henry’s listening to him from underwater. “Don’t let him come, Felix,” He’s instructing and Henry’s head falls back onto Wendy’s shoulder as Felix makes a rumbling noise of displeasure but pulls off Henry with a wethot _snap_ , reaches up and kisses Wendy so she can taste, fisting a hand in her hair, wild.

Henry tries and fails to catch his breath, falling back from the brink, and Peter leans in and bites down on Henry’s ear, mutters, “How you doing, love?”

Henry can only nod, feel Peter’s smile against his cheek.

Felix and Wendy break apart, Felix looking a little less wild around the edges, more together now, while Wendy just looks hungrier, and they are gorgeous, heaving chests and ruined hair. Peter’s grin widens against Henry, a silent _look at them, Henry, they’re ours_ , before Wendy leads Henry's head back to pull him in for a kiss, mouth off-angle and sucking on his lip, pulling it between her teeth then soothing the burn with her tongue.

Henry feels Peter shift around him, attentions turning to Henry’s neck, scraping up to the jut of his jaw and sucking, and Henry is going to look completely _wrecked_ tomorrow, but he’s also pretty sure that he won’t be being let out of the bedroom all weekend so there’s _that_.

Peter moves, _crawls_ , pushing Henry further back onto the bed with with his body, and Felix reappears at Peter’s back, the way he had been the first time Henry had ever seen the two of them, and he’s pressing something into Peter’s hand, Peter releasing Henry to crane his neck back and kiss a thankyou into him, before Henry hears the _snick_ of a bottle opening.

"Henry?" Peter asks, Wendy pulling back, hands still resting on Henry's shoulders, so Peter can look Henry in the eye. Henry’s panting, naked and desperate, and his legs fall apart under Peter’s questioning touch to his thighs.

Peter pushes him back, slowly, so slowly, always so slowly, Wendy moving away to press back against Felix, watching as Peter leans down, mouths at Henry’s hip, at the place where Henry’s shirt rides up each day, sucking deep blushes into his skin, so maddeningly that Henry doesn’t notice what he’s doing until a slick finger is pressing inside of him.

He hisses as Peter pushes in, rubs slow, lazy circles, teeth and tongue still marking up Henry’s hips, and he feels Peter smirk against him. “Fuck, _Peter_.”

Somewhere through the sound of his own blood pumping in his ears, Henry can make out a low murmuring. Peter’s stroking into him, two fingers, three, his hips rolling, but Henry grasps at the last sparks of awareness in his brain to turn his head, catch the sight of Wendy pushed back against Felix’s chest, bottom lip rubbed red as she bites down on it, watching them, of Felix, long fingers pushing beneath Wendy’s panties, rubbing slowly, eyes hooded and fixed on Henry, on Peter, as he whispers into Wendy’s ear.

Henry can’t make out much, hears “ _Ours_.”

He can’t stop the moan he lets out, doesn’t even try.

Peter’s working him open so slowly that he feels like he’s on fire, burning, and Henry sobs when he finally pulls out, one hand flying out until Peter moves up his body, catches it, pins it down to the bed.

“Fuck,” Wendy whispers, and Henry can see the flush in her cheeks until Peter’s face swims before him, grinning.

“You okay, Henry?” He asks, and if Henry had the strength to hit him right now he would.

“Peter, I swear to _god_ ,” He gets out, and Peter cuts him off with his mouth, hitches Henry’s leg up around his waist and pushes in, slick and slow. So slow. Aching dull-bluntness that dances into pleasure as Peter bottoms out, kisses him sweet.

“Love you,” Peter whispers, quiet against the shell of his ear, sloppy across his cheek. “We all love you so much. _Henry_.” And he rolls them, Henry groaning deep as the angle changes, seated in Peter’s lap and so full he thinks he’s going to burst. He digs his nails into Peter’s shoulders just to watch Peter hiss, arch his neck back, Felix ducking behind Peter to taste the exposed flesh, eyes fixed on Henry, as Wendy presses herself up against Henry’s back, her underwear discarded under Felix’s clever fingers, skin to skin and her mouth at the top of Henry’s spine.

He doesn't think he'll ever be over, ever be able to fully believe, that he can have this effect on anyone, let alone the three wild creatures who took him into their bed. But then there are moments, like this, or when Wendy hugs him tight and breathes into his neck after a bad phone call with her parents, when Felix pulls him closer in his sleep, mumbles nonsense into Henry's skin, when Peter stares at him like there's a universe in Henry that he wants to conquer, and Henry can believe it.

Peter’s hips _cant_ and Henry moves with it, Peter’s hands digging in on his hips, adding yet more marks to the collection he’ll have tomorrow, and holding him still so Peter can drive deeper and deeper and _deeper_ , and Henry’s dizzy with it.

He can feel Wendy moving behind him, the quick strokes of her hand between her legs, the soft whimpers she lets out against his neck, and he wants to reach back, touch and make her shudder beneath his hands like he’s still awestruck he can do, but he gets the feeling that they’re not about to let him do anything other than _take_ , not today.

He’s not sure he’d be much use anyway, right now, as lights begin to spark behind his eyelids.

“Open your eyes, Henry,” Felix says, voice low and gravelled, hand on Henry’s cheek, and Henry didn’t realise he’d closed them, opens them to Peter’s mouth red, grinning wide enough that it reaches his eyes, staring at Henry like he’s made of fucking wonder. Felix’s thumb pulls on the corner of Henry’s mouth and Henry tilts his head into it, lets Felix catch his mouth in a biting kiss.

Felix is still in his shorts, hard, but he won’t get off until the rest of them have, won’t let himself, has to make sure they all get there before him, but Henry can feel him trembling into the kiss, gives back everything he can.

“ _Felix_ ,” Peter bites out, eyes screwed tight as his hips push into the back of Henry’s thighs over and over, and Felix lets Henry go with a nip to his bottom lip, presses his hand to the back of Peter’s neck and holds him, grounds him, because Peter’s a runaway cart at the best of times and right now he’s about to head off the rails, over the cliff, tug Henry along with him.

“You’re doing so good,” Wendy breathes, breath cool on the sweat of Henry’s nape. “You’re doing so good, boys, so good for us.” Henry whines, so fucking close, and Wendy presses a kiss to the space behind his ear, sweet. “Let go, Henry.”

And he does. When Peter stutters against him, head thrown back and eyes blown, Henry’s orgasm hits him like an electrical storm, buzzing through his veins. He cries out, clutches out and down at anything he can reach, Peter’s shoulder blades, Felix’s neck, as he shudders and pants into Peter’s collarbone, air burning in his lungs.

“Oh.” Wendy comes quiet behind him, at which Felix _whines_ , high in his throat, and pushes his cheek into Henry’s hair, and it takes Peter scraping at his neck, Wendy’s hand in his hair, and Henry mouthing at his jaw for Felix to come, untouched.

They’re a mess of bodies, hot breath on slick skin, and it’s _perfect_.

It’s everything.

Henry closes his eyes, rests his forehead at Peter’s neck, feels Wendy slump against his back, her arms slipping around his waist and a gentle kiss pressing to the centre of his spine. Felix noses at Henry’s cheek, kisses him chaste, hand threading gentle in his hair, and Henry makes a weak noise into Felix’s mouth, lost, hears Peter chuckle equally as weak, in his ear.

He becomes hazily aware of hands moving him, sure and steady, hisses as Peter slides out of him, aftershocks shuddering through him, through both of them. Something soft runs over him, wiping the come off of his belly, his chest, and it’s Felix, of course it’s Felix, looking after them as they rest boneless against each other, Wendy holding onto Henry like she’s sure he’s not going anywhere but wants to hold on in case, Peter leaning against Felix’s chest, and Henry could sleep here, right here, lie here forever in the arms of the three loves of his life, but he lets Felix maneuver them under the covers.

Wendy nestles against his back, hand resting on his stomach and tracing idle patterns Henry’s not sure she’s even aware of doing, humming quietly, happily, to herself. Felix puts himself at Peter’s back, as always, as always, and when Henry reaches out blearily Felix laces their fingers together, knowing, and Henry’s too gone to do anything but smile.

“Henry,” Peter says, just as the warmth in Henry’s bones spreads to his head, limbs growing heavy and breathing evening, and his voice is quiet, calm like a river surface with a current raging underneath.

Henry knows what he’s going to ask before he does. “My moms,” He says, quiet, sleepy now and the cares of earlier lost in a golden haze of adoration and love. Tomorrow, he’ll worry about it again.

Tonight, he falls asleep in Peter’s arms, Wendy breathing sweetly in his ear and Felix’s eyes on him.

He doesn’t feel the kiss Peter’s brushes to his forehead. A promise.

 

***

 

Felix is already awake when Peter blinks his way into consciousness once again, watching gaze honey sweet and so _Felix_ that Peter has to reach up and kiss him, chaste, in greeting, a thankyou, just because he _can_. Felix hasn’t slept, of course he hasn’t. Not when one of their own is hurting, not when there’s something to be done about it.

“C’mon,” He whispers, and extricates himself from Henry’s arms carefully. Henry frowns a little in his sleep but doesn’t wake.

They dress in near silence in the early morning light, Felix digging in the mess of clothing scattered at the foot of the bed to toss Henry’s phone to Peter without Peter needing to ask.

_Granny’s. Ten minutes_. He texts it to two numbers, then places the phone on the chest of drawers.

The detritus of four intertwining lives in one apartment creates an almost living organism of mess and clutter. Henry won't question how his phone got there. Peter's not going to lie to him. Henry’s been lied to enough in his life. But he's going to give Henry a day of peace first.

They crack open the bedroom door, breaking the seal on the world they've created for themselves in here, and Peter looks back and sees that Henry's shifted, turned and pressed himself into Wendy's side. Wendy sleeps like the dead, arms above her head and blonde curls brushing the top of her breasts, but when Henry sighs into her skin, she smiles in her sleep and turns unconsciously into his touch.

It catches Peter about the middle.

They're his. All three of them. Peter grew up without anything and now he has the three most important things in the world.

And someone hurt one of them.

Felix presses a reminding hand to his side and Peter goes, closes the door behind him.

Granny's is quiet, still early, except for the two arguing women at the counter who don't even hear the bell go as he and Felix walk in. And Peter gets it, okay, knows what it's like to have to fight for what you love. But not at Henry's expense. Never when it hurts Henry.

"Well he clearly asked _both of us_ to meet him," Emma Swan finally says, exasperated, and Peter cuts in before Regina can retort.

"Actually," He says, voice clipped and dangerous, and both women snap their heads to where he and Felix are still by the door. There's a bruise at Peter's jaw line, sucked there by Henry himself, and neither of them bothered to shower before leaving so they smell of sex and sleep. Peter barely stops himself from smirking, because this? This is serious. This is for Henry. "It was us. Shall we sit? Mayor? Sheriff?"

"You?" Regina asks, eyes narrowed the way they always are when she sees any of them around town, and Peter just stops himself from baring his teeth.

" _Us_. Please, this would be better sitting."

Clearly torn between wanting to know what he has to say, and their reluctance at obeying their son's boyfriend, they take a seat in one of the booths slowly. Peter slides in opposite. Felix stands for a second, trapped between his roles as Peter's second in command and his boyfriend, and no Peter's not having that right now, gestures for Felix to join him, stretches an arm along the back of the booth so he can trace circles into the back of Felix's neck.

Emma and Regina don't look and they don't look _pointedly_.

"I don't know what happened last night," Peter starts. "And to be honest, I don't care. The only thing I care about is Henry and he came home upset last night. I don't like it when Henry's upset."

“So, you’re...what?” Regina’s sneer doesn’t hide the shame in her eyes, her lipstick not dark enough to fool them. “Telling us off?”

Peter opens his mouth, but Felix beats him to it, voice low, ice. “No. We’re telling you that you don’t.” He shifts, just slightly, and his entire body becomes _menacing_. The boy with the bat, the scar, the grin, always at Peter’s shoulder. Peter wants to grin, holds it back. “You don’t do that to our boy again."

Regina opens her mouth again and Peter _welcomes_ it. Anything to say everything he wants to say to this woman but can’t because for some reason Henry still loves her, still wants to make her happy. But Emma places a hand on her forearm, stops her, eyes on Peter.

“We won’t,” She says, voice hard and jaw set. Her cheeks are pink in what Peter hopes is shame. “It’ll be better.”

Peter wants to like Emma. It’s almost enough.

“Next week,” Peter says, draws out the words, lets himself smile, slow, because he might play nice when Henry asks, but not now. “Henry won’t be alone.”

Felix stiffens at his side, but Peter sees the small quirk of his mouth, pleased.

Peter watches Emma and Regina’s reactions. Emma’s eyebrow raise before she collects herself, the look of outrage that flickers across Regina’s face before she reigns it in. Try as they might, Henry’s mother’s are more alike than they think.

But Henry loves them. So Peter will always give them one more chance, as much as he hates it.

They nod, agreeing because they can’t not, and leave.

Felix and Peter follow out into the cold after them, stop and watch as Emma and Regina begin arguing almost as soon as they clear earshot. Peter sighs, pushes back into the subtle hand Felix presses to the small of his back, grounding, the only gesture of affection Felix allows himself with Peter in public.

Too cautious, but not without his reasons. Peter doesn’t push, for all that he wants to press Felix into the nearest vertical surface and wrap his legs around Felix’s hips. Felix’s voice is a deadly weapon at the best of times. Velvet low and in protection of someone he loves…? Peter shudders.

“Wendy will fight you for that dinner,” Felix says, breath pluming in the cold air.

Peter shakes his head. “Wendy’s not going. Neither am I.”

As much as he wants to go, press his thigh to Henry’s beneath the table, match barbs with Regina and get under Emma’s skin, that’s not what Henry needs. And Wendy will be just as bad. No, Henry needs Felix, quiet and sure at his side.

“If it gets too bad he’ll probably let you blow him in his old bedroom,” Peter suggests, and Felix makes a noise in the back of his throat. “We’ll be expecting _that_ phone call.”

Felix’s hand presses firmer at his back and Peter grins.

They need to get back. _Now_.

They’ll go back to their tiny apartment, kiss Wendy and Henry awake and press cold hands to warm bodies until the other two are squirming, cursing, laughing.

And Peter will forget to breathe, just a little.

 


End file.
